


What Ignites A Fire

by ultrafreakyfangirl



Series: Hassandra AU [3]
Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: F/F, I mean it could be I guess - subplots are a thing, I'm gonna add it to my Hassandra AU even though it's really not, just to make things easier, takes place after Elle is on the run from Campbell, when Helena offers her a place to stay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19785340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultrafreakyfangirl/pseuds/ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: Elle discovers what lights her soul on fire.





	What Ignites A Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is an Elle x Helena fic for Emmy! I know it's a bit late but if you get a notification for it, which I hope you do, here it is! :) I hope you like it! :) As always, readers, let me know what you think! :)

Elle sat on the edge of the bed, toying absently with her fingers. She does this too much. Fidgets. It’s becoming a problem and was honestly probably a sign of a deeper-rooted anxiety, but she couldn’t be bothered, not right now; not about that, or about how her cuticles were becoming a mess, or how there was a piece of hair at the back of her throat that she wouldn’t be able to reach without gagging herself. She couldn’t _really_ think about anything. Not with Helena staring at her like that.

Why was it so weird though? Okay, not _weird,_ but different, more _present,_ somehow.

Sure, Helena had looked at her before, in the hallways at school – there were days when there was a glare there, at the forefront of her expression, a sort of impish smirk because she knew she was the only one destined to rule the school, that Elle would be forever in her place at second. Not in command, either. Just second. Last.

While Helena was the school’s most popular girl, she was portrayed as the school’s whore. It was different. The connotations were. But now, _now,_ Helena was looking at her with sympathy, like they were one in the same, although even that thought was crazy because Luke was the best guy and Campbell was, well, _Campbell._ A psychopathic, misanthropic, _asshole._ He was more than that, worse than that, but Elle didn’t have the energy for adjectives.

“What?” she finally got up the courage to ask. “Why are you staring at me?”

Elle didn’t think she was that pretty. So, she often passed the time avoiding acknowledging her own appearance, and appraising others’ instead. Less hurt that way. And it made sense then, she told herself, that she was thinking about how beautiful Helena looked right now, standing in the middle of this room, that’s now hers, and was once someone else’s; with her dark hair ribboning down to the middle of her back, her eyes shining bright with compassion and pain but she’d imagine it to be happiness, and that golden cross necklace against the olive complexion of her skin was drawing a stupid, and ironic amount of attention to her chest.

Why the _fuck_ she was even looking at Helena’s chest in the first place, was a question she was suddenly afraid to answer. And _since when_ did she swear?

“No reason,” Helena responded finally, her gaze diverting to the carpet.

 _Because you’re fucking gorgeous. And I love you._ What? What!? What the fuck. Just because Helena is the only person ever in your life to actually give a crap about you besides your parents does not mean you like her, like _that._ That you think about her like _that._

But then they were kissing. Somehow. It happened and neither of them were too quick to make it stop. Scalding skin, touching hands, legs, thighs, _everywhere,_ and when Helena pulled softly at her hair, Elle felt warm and fuzzy. Not once had Campbell made her feel like this. Not even when they first met. When she thought back on it, she realized that not one boy had made her feel anything close to this. This, this with Helena – Helena’s hands, Helena’s lips, Helena’s tongue and that damn gold cross, an insignia of their sins, digging into her skin, was like fire. Fire, ripping through her body, and touching her soul.

Like that stupid saying she had on a canvas hanging on her wall at home, wherever that was anymore, and for the first time in six months, she realized that she didn’t care. Didn’t give a _fuck._

_Be fearless in the pursuit of what sets your soul on fire._

Elle grabbed for Helena’s top and smiled against her mouth as she felt her muscles relax. So, this was what setting your soul on fire was like. She took greedy handfuls of pale, creamy skin and listened as moans started to slip from between Helena’s bowed lips. _Well, shit._


End file.
